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- SEATED one day at the Organ,
- I was weary and ill at ease,
- And my fingers wandered idly
- Over the noisy keys.
- I do not know what I was playing,
- Or what I was dreaming then;
- But I struck one chord of music,
- Like the sound of a great Amen.
- It flooded the crimson twilight
- Like the close of an angel's Psalm,
- And it lay on my fevered spirit
- With a touch of infinite calm.
- It quieted pain and sorrow,
- Like love overcoming strife;
- It seemed the harmonious echo
- From our discordant life.
- It linked all perplexèd meanings
- Into one perfect peace,
- And trembled away into silence,
- As if it were loath to cease.
- I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
- That one lost chord divine,
- That came from the soul of the Organ
- And entered into mine.
- It may be that Death's bright angel
- Will speak in that chord again,--
- It may be that only in Heaven
- I shall hear that grand Amen.
- Adelaide Anne Procter
Poets' Corner .
H O M E .